Arthur C Clarke: The Fountains of Paradise

All Arthur C Clarke's books have the same underlying theme (though in some books it is underlying more deeply than others). The theme is 'Science, not religion, is the true locus for transcendence and wonder'. This theme is explicit in The Fountains of Paradise when a great mechanical elevator to the stars supplants an ancient religious stronghold and one chapter ends with this memorable summary of the religious point of view: 'the billions of words of pious gibberish with which apparently intelligent men had addled their minds for centuries.'

I think this is Clarke's most personal book. Set in the fictional land of Taprabone, which is about 90% Sri Lanka according to the author, it's rich and vivid with detail about the land that he adopted as his home. It also comes as near as Clarke ever came to describing his personal life, the transcendent joy he felt while diving, weightless, adrift from all his worries; the being carried around the house by his personal staff. (Clarke suffered from polio and was wheelchair-bound for many years.)

Clarke is not at is best when describing politics and world affairs in his envisioned 22nd century. He is at his brilliant best when he is describing people in their battles with the laws of physics, and with envisioning alien life. This book starts in his weaker area but ends in his strongest. I think Rendezvous with Rama was better; but this is one of his best, and certainly his most revealing.

China Mieville: Kraken

Kraken by China Mieville

If science fiction was purring happily forward through the disciplined and physics-rich imaginations of, say, a Stephen Baxter or an Alastair Reynolds, then China Mieville has grabbed the steering wheel and done something with the car that I didn't even know you could. This--the first of his I've read-- is an astonishing, exhilarating book.

Sometimes a writer comes along who does something so drastic to an area of fiction that it is never the same again. I imagine Tolkein did it with fantasy; Terry Pratchett did it again when fantasy was already becoming too autistic and too generic. Douglas Adams blasted a hole into the kind of SF that made human progress the new religion: his machines didn't work, his ultimate dreams descended into farce and technology was an annoyance.

Kraken is best described as urban fantasy, and it takes us into a London-behind-London of warring cults, angels, sentient bits of Unix, Trekkies working magic, fire that devours backwards in time, and distinctly odd branches of the Metropolitan Police. Oh, and the many-legged bottled giant squid of the title. It's hardly science fiction, though Mieville's other books have three times won the prize that honours that arch-materialist Arthur C Clarke, who was himself, of course, a genre-changer by adding robust physics to the space stories from pulp magazines. Mieville's is a world where scepticism has pushed religion out of the front door, only to find the supernatural crawling, flying and oozing back in through every wall and floorboard.

A couple of caveats. The protagonists seem to have the kind of invulnerability more often bestowed on the likes of Indiana Jones or Harry Potter, which takes the edge off the supposedly ancient and all-conquering powers with whom they fight. And while Mieville's sparse, slightly wild writing is a delight, I got weary of the endless streams of f-words with which he populates his characters' dialogue.

Once you recover from the shock of realising what Mieville is doing, you find a compelling plot like a set of Russian dolls, plenty of a suspense and a satisfying ending.

A brilliant book, a literary Tungusta, which I absolutely loved.

Olaf Stapledon: The Star Maker

Philosophy is supposed to be a series of footnotes to Plato. In the same way, the science fiction I have read might be said to be footnotes to Stapledon.

This is one of the most remarkable books I have ever read. Arthur C Clarke called it 'the most powerful work of imagination ever written.' Doris Lessing, nobel laureate, and Virginia Woolf heaped praise on it.

It isn't really a novel. It's essentially an overview of a person's experience becoming more and more aware of all the life in the universe, and of the Star Maker himself. As such, it works like Russian dolls in reverse: each succeeding vision is larger than the rest. You wonder where the inventiveness comes from. You wonder if he's ever going to stop. You wonder what he was on when he wrote this.

Finally there is an encounter with the Star Maker himself, which, amazingly, doesn't disappoint.
Truly a classic.

Neal Stephenson's baroque 'trilogy'

The mix of science, history, speculation and story-telling makes the 2000 plus pages of these four books as entertaining as the best things I have ever read. Cryptonomicon was the first, set in the Second World War and the 1990s; the three others followed afterwards, set in the Scientific Revolution. Hugely, utterly satisfying. I cannot remember enjoying a book more. My only real disappointment with these books was that they came to an end.

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy: Douglas Adams

Douglas Adams was a fan of Wodehouse and science fiction: what's not to like? The original radio series burst upon the scene (for me) like one of those things that burst upon the scene. A firework maybe.

The book became that much-devalued thing, a number one bestseller. It is about as far from beiing a work of literary fiction as a book can possibly be, which is delightful. Our moment in the sun. Take that at the Hay-on-Wye Festival and smoke it. The Hitchhiker brand got diluted after the second series and second book, but not after it inspired Terry Pratchett (another physicist) to leave the nuclear industry and write for fun.

Here's the book:



Here's the radio series:

The collected short stories: Arthur C Clarke

Arthur C Clarke's short stories were the first things I remember reading as a pre-teen. They were published month by month in a boys' magazine called Speed and Power to which I graduated after I finished with The Dandy. Praise God for parents who subscribe to comics and magazines for their children. From this I progressed to his novels, to his science books, to his rivals and peers.

Your brain is still mushy at that age, but solidifying fast. Mine went this way. Physics is beautiful. Technology can make fairy tales true. It's OK to dream of a better world. Writing can be lucid and enlightening. Wouldn't it be fun to study Physics at King's College (Clarke studied Physics and Maths joint honours). Then, be a writer for the rest of your life, simplifying complex things that you study for the fun of learning about them and writing novels. Clarke died a few months ago and I still miss him.

Cryptonomicon: Neal Stephenson

One of those books that you think no-one but you will enjoy because it seems to match your interests so much. I suppose it's about code-making and -breaking in the second world war and the present day. Lengthy excursions into pure maths and engineering. Complicated, intricate, with fresh ideas and insights around every corner that tempt Stephenson to explore yet another tangent -- a temptation he usually succumbs to. What a brilliant book. It stayed with me weeks after I finished it. I bought another copy, having given back the original that I myself was lent; then I gave that copy away. Now I want another, because I like to have one near. That kind of book.